


If Girls Were Flowers, I'd Pick You

by ebonyandunicorn



Category: Primeval: New World
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonyandunicorn/pseuds/ebonyandunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ken visits Ange in her office on Valentine's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Girls Were Flowers, I'd Pick You

There was a knock on the door and Ange looked up, torn between being irritated at the interruption and welcoming it. The contract she'd been reading through was long and dull, but she couldn't afford to skim it and miss something important; Ange was nothing if not thorough. The result was, though, that she'd been working for hours now without a break. "Come in," she called, looking up briefly from the contract to glance towards the door. Somebody from outside tugged it towards them several times before realising that it opened inwards, and then stumbled over themselves to enter the room. 

"Ah, good morning, Ms. Finch," said Ken Leeds, standing up straight again and brushing the hair over his forehead back into order with one hand. The other was hiding – not very effectively – something behind his back. 

"Good morning, lieutenant," Ange replied, having to fight back a smile as she always did whenever he was doing something hopeless but also adorable. She stood up, walking on bare feet out from behind her desk to lean against it as she surveyed him. "How can I help you?" 

"Well, I just thought – I mean, I happened to be in the area, and since it's a special day, I figured I should stop by." 

Ange did her best to frown at him, determined not to make this easy. "My birthday is in July." 

"I know," Leeds said quickly. "The 22nd. Uh, I looked it up in your file. And I have your present planned out already." He beamed at her, then blushed a little bit and cleared his throat. "Anyway, uh, that's not really the point. The point is – ow – very sharp, apparently, since I didn't de-thorn them –" With a great flourish, he produced a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ms. Finch." He quickly straightened a few of the petals, then held the bouquet out to her. 

She took it, careful not to prick her fingers as he had done, and hid her nose in the fragrant petals. "They're lovely," she told him, honestly flattered. "Nobody's ever gotten me Valentine's flowers before." 

"What?" Leeds asked, his expression shocked. "I don't believe it, Ms. Finch. A beautiful, talented woman like you... I would have thought..." 

"It's true." She smiled a little wistfully, running her thumb gently along the stem of a rose. "Back in school, I was too intimidating. The boys were all afraid of me; they'd run away from me instead of send me cards. I think they thought I would beat them up or something if they got too close to me." 

"Ah. Well." Leeds linked his hands behind his back and chuckled. "I, uh, I do hope you're not about to unleash those karate skills on me." 

"Actually, it's muay Thai." 

"Noted." 

Leeds was smiling. He often smiled when he looked at her, but this time it felt different. Ange tilted her head at him, a frown of confusion forming on her face. "What?" 

"Oh, it's nothing," he reassured her quickly. "I was just thinking about how wrong your schoolmates were." 

"Because they didn't give me valentines?" she asked. 

"No," he said. "Because they were terrified of your strength instead of awed by it. Because they didn't appreciate your determination and drive. Because they let their fears of failure or pain get in the way of going after something so worthwhile. And, yes, because they were foolish enough not to display how much they cared about you while they had the chance." 

Ange looked away from him, a small gasp of stunned laughter escaping her mouth. Just like that he had unwrapped her, summed up in four sentences what her entire school experience – and beyond – had been shaped by; men were scared of her. She was too intelligent, too driven; she wouldn't take crap from anyone; she always wanted her way (because it was the best) and most of the time she got it. It was not uncommon for people to respect her, but it was uncommon for them to actually like her. It was a fact that she had grown to accept over the years. Ange had co-founded a profitable company and was a successful businesswoman in her own right, and she would not have had it any other way. She did wonder, though, sometimes, what it might be like to have a man love her for who she was, instead of simply taking orders from her because he was afraid of the alternative. 

"Did you get that from my file, too?" she asked Leeds quietly, staring at the roses in her hands. 

"No," he answered, and she couldn't decide if that was good or bad, because it meant that he had figured it all out himself. "Ms. Finch," he said gently, "you can be a difficult woman to read sometimes, but I know you. You've got this outer shell that's so strong, and it's like you don't want anything to ever get through, but I've seen what's underneath. You're compassionate; you're sensitive; you care about people. And you want them to care about you, too." 

Her gaze drifted upwards to meet his. There was a question in her eyes, and he read and answered it without her saying a thing, and she couldn't decide if that was good or bad. 

"I care about you, Ange," he told her solemnly. 

Good, she decided. It was good.


End file.
